


Escape

by xxxillusionxxx



Series: Life is But a Dream [7]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Addict!Derek, Captivity, Drug Use, M/M, Rape, Relapse, addcit! Stiles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-15
Updated: 2014-07-15
Packaged: 2018-02-08 22:05:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1957776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xxxillusionxxx/pseuds/xxxillusionxxx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles really can't take it anymore.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Escape

**Author's Note:**

> If I missed any warnings please let me know. This is part of a series and will make more sense if you read the earlier segments.

“Derek? Are you awake?” Stiles whispered. 

There was light streaming through the blinds and Peter’s side of the bed was long cooled down so it had to be late in the morning. 

“Urrgg,” Derek grumbled and rolled over so that his back was to Stiles. 

“I think I want to try to go sober again,” Stiles said. 

Derek turned around and blinked sleepily at him. 

“That’s like the fourth time you said that,” he said. 

“I mean it this time! I really liked being sober,” he didn’t say that it had been easier to hold onto that when he had Scott. 

“Whatever. I’m not changing,” Derek said before turning over again and going back to sleep. 

“I wasn’t asking you to,” Stiles murmured before curling up behind Derek. 

*** 

Peter stared blankly at Stiles. It made Stiles nervous and twitchy and he cursed his reaction to the alpha. 

“And you’re serious about it this time?” he asked. 

Stiles frowned. 

“I was always serious about it I just…I don’t know it feels like no one supports me and I relapse,” he said. 

Peter looked at him thoughtfully. 

“Alright. If you want support, I’ll support you. No more drugs.”

*** 

Stiles regretted his decision almost immediately. Peter had meant it when he said no drugs. He had weaned him off quickly and painfully and every time Stiles felt the pang of a craving, Peter refused to give him anything for relief.

“You asked for this,” Derek commented as he rolled a dutch at the kitchen table. 

Stiles eyed it longingly. 

“It’ll get better,” he said, sipping water to try to wet his dry mouth. 

“Nothing ever gets better,” Derek mumbled. 

*** 

It took two full months for Stiles to feel somewhat stable in his sobriety. He felt healthier, more aware. Unfortunately with sobriety came restlessness and dissatisfaction with what his life was. 

“Peter can I please go outside?” Stiles begged one morning before he disappeared off to wherever he went during the day. 

Peter seemed to think it over. 

“No, you’re fine in here,” he said after a moment. 

“But Peter I can’t live like this! I need fresh air or something! Derek could come with me!” Stiles begged. 

Peter frowned. 

“Fine, Derek can go with you on a walk through the property,” he conceded.

Stiles kissed him enthusiastically. 

*** 

Derek took Stiles through the miles of woods behind the house the next afternoon. They followed a poorly kept trail—Derek explained that he and Peter didn’t worry about moving through the forest as wolves on trails—which, after a few hours, opened up into a wide clearing with a little water fall.

“This is so cute! Do you come here a lot?” Stiles asked. 

Derek spent a lot of time at the house with him but sometimes he and Peter went off to blow off some werewolf steam while Stiles stayed in their bedroom, locked in from the outside. 

Derek shrugged. 

“Sometimes. I like to burn here. It’s peaceful,” he said. 

Derek had smoked almost a whole bag of weed before they left and his words were slow and slightly slurred. Stiles could tell that he was on the verge of sleep and he thrilled at the knowledge that he’d gotten so far. 

“You wanna chill here for a while? I kinda wanna swim and you can take a nap or something,” Stiles suggested. 

Derek gave Stiles an appreciative smile and reclined under a nearby tree. Stiles stripped out of his clothing and waded in the water until he was sure that Derek was out. Then he hopped out of the water, wrestled his clothing back on, and pulled the faded map he’d found among Peter’s things out of his pants pocket. 

If they were where he thought they were, then there should be a road a little bit east of here. He looked up at the sun and faced where he estimated east would be. It took him ten minutes to find the highway. 

He walked along the road, figuring that a car was bound to come by sooner or later. 

The sun went down and Stiles shivered a little as the cool night air set in. His heart skipped a beat when he heard the distant sound of an engine coming his way. As the headlights came into view he stepped into the road and waved his arms frantically. 

The car pulled to a stop a few feet from him and someone stepped out of the driver’s side. Stiles froze when the shadow of a familiar figure cut through the light. 

“Really?” Peter growled, grabbing Stiles by the back of the neck and slamming him face down onto the hood. 

Stiles grunted and tried to wiggle out of Peter’s grip only to feel sharp claws dig into the sensitive skin of his throat. He immediately froze and swallowed nervously. 

“I don’t know if this little rebellion is part of your newfound sobriety but let’s get one thing _perfectly_ clear,” Peter hissed, digging his claws in deeper and drawing blood as Stiles gasped desperately for air. 

“You are a worthless piece of shit that nobody, least of all that stupid friend of yours, wants to deal with. When I say that you are mine and you belong to me, it means that there is no life for you beyond what I deem necessary. Was this about your friend again? Do I have to get rid of him for good for you to behave?”

Stiles shook his head minutely, ignoring the searing pain as the nails embedded in his skin shifted. 

“Not…about…him,” Stiles choked out. 

The hand disappeared from his throat and Stiles gasped for air and coughed as he was suddenly roughly flipped over and slammed onto his back. He looked up at a furious and half wolfed-out Peter through the blurry lens of the tears forming in his eyes. 

“Oh really. Then please enlighten me as to what this is about,” Peter growled. 

Stiles hiccupped. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry I was being stupid!” Stiles said hysterically, flinching at the rage contorting Peter’s face. 

“That’s an understatement. Get in the fucking car,” Peter commanded, lifting Stiles by his shirt front and throwing him on the ground next to the passenger seat. 

Stiles scrambled to his feet and into the car. Peter slammed the door as he sat in the driver’s seat and sped down the road. 

Stiles fumbled with the seatbelt as he desperately tried to come up with a way out of the punishment he knew was coming. Peter sat silently and stiffly in the driver’s seat. It was always the worst when he couldn’t tell what Peter was going to do next. 

Peter didn’t say a word as he parked the car in front of the cabin. He got out and pulled the passenger door opened, dragging Stiles out almost before he could even get his seatbelt off. Blood ran down his arm where Peter’s claws punctured the skin. 

Derek lay in a pile in the corner of the living room but Stiles couldn’t spare much guilt for him as he was dragged into the bedroom and thrown on the floor. 

Peter passed Stiles to open the chest at the foot of their bed that Stiles always knew meant he was about to have a horrible experience. Peter came back with a ball gag and rope. Stiles curled in on himself but one look at Peter had him surrendering to Peter’s ministrations. Peter tied his arms behind his back and then secured his arms against the back of his legs so that his back arched painfully. 

He stepped back to admire his handiwork before dragging Stiles like he weighed nothing over to the closet, throwing him inside and closing the door. 

Stiles began to panic immediately. His fear of the dark had intensified without the numbing effect of drugs and he tried to scream around the gag. A fist slammed against the other end of the door and Stiles obediently held his tongue and squeezed his eyes shut, praying that this would end soon. 

***   
Hours, days later—Stiles couldn’t tell anymore—Peter opened the door. 

“You’re not going outside again for quite a while, Stiles,” he said. 

Stiles shook his head and blinked the tears out of his eyes, terrified that if he did the wrong thing Peter would close the door again. Peter frowned and pulled the ball gag from Stiles’s swollen lips. 

“I’m sorry, Peter,” Stiles sobbed, ignoring the spit he could feel sliding down his chin. 

Peter didn’t say anything, just pulled Stiles’s face close and kissed him hungrily. 

Stiles cried out in pain as Peter sliced the rope with his claws and feeling came flooding back to his newly freed arms. His back was screaming in pain but Stiles ignored that as he launched himself desperately at Peter, trying to make him happy. 

Peter chuckled and lifted him, dropping him down on the bed and clawing at his dirty clothes. 

“Peter,” Stiles whined, nervous that the man would be mad at him for not being aroused, his flaccid penis resting against his thighs. 

Peter seemed to ignore that as he turned Stiles over and pushed in with no prep. Stiles gasped and moaned in pain at the sharp burn and drag as Peter thrust brutally into him. 

“Peter…I’m sorry…I love you,” Stiles whined, trying not to cry. 

Peter didn’t say anything, only grunted his release and fell heavily onto Stiles. Stiles felt wetness run down his thigh and he wondered if some of that was his blood. 

“I love you too, Stiles. You can’t ever leave me,” Peter murmured into Stiles’s wounded neck. 

Stiles swallowed his sob and curled into Peter as best he could. His restless desire to run was gone. He’d have to remember to apologize to Derek later. He had been stupid. He felt Peter shift behind him and couldn’t say it wouldn’t happen again.

**Author's Note:**

> Come say hi to me on [tumblr!!!](http://nightshadekisses.tumblr.com/)


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